


On Location

by Sherlaufeyson



Category: British Actor RPF, British Comedy RPF, Not Only... But Also (TV) RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 19:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16771033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlaufeyson/pseuds/Sherlaufeyson
Summary: It's 1973. Pete and Dud are nearing the end of a show and Dudley is uncharacteristically distracted.





	On Location

Inspired by: [Behind the Fridge: On Location](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gmLWaK5JvPI)

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The only thing managing to save him from derailing another sketch due to corpsing was the convenient yet entirely inappropriate hard-on that Dudley Moore was sporting.

It really wasn’t his fault. 

For once, Peter was playing his son, which shouldn’t have been raising any alarm bells, let alone erections. But it was the way he was talking to him. 

Kind. Thoughtful. Sweet.

Everything that Dudley hoped for on a day to day basis but never seemed to elicit from the young genius. 

Dudley also knew exactly what Peter’s voice ought to sound like when he said the word ‘dad’, and that it was most certainly producing the word ‘Dud’ tonight.

Then there was the unnecessary touching. Really, did Peter need to grab him around the waist, pull him bodily into his lap, spin him around and force him to gather the requisite braincells to extricate himself from the chair at a point where his mind had been completely distracted by the combination of a loss of balance, dizziness, and arousal?

A live show, and Peter still didn’t seem to be keeping any physical boundaries sacred.

He had tried giving Peter a taste of his own medicine, running his hands thoroughly over him in a fairly faithful imitation of a BAAC officer, but all that had served to do was ramp up his own lusts.

After he had finished feeling up Peter’s legs - my God, how long did they go on for? - Peter just fixed him with one of those stares. Those ‘I know exactly what you’re doing and you’re going to answer for it later’ stares.

Except. He never did have to answer for it later.

No matter how close they got on stage. How physically intimate, how mentally joined they were. It wouldn’t have been out of the question to suggest telepathy. But it never spilled off-stage.

Oh how Dudley wanted it to spill off stage.

He had hoped. He had thought maybe, just maybe there was something there. But after fourteen years it was becoming just that bit of a stretch to imagine they really would cross that line.

It wasn’t often that he drifted off during a show. That was Peter’s particular gift.

His role in the sketch was rather physically demanding, but it was so familiar, and so much of it relied on muscle memory that he found himself hyper-aware of Peter’s presence. Every time Peter reached for him; spoke to him; thumped him on the back when he would start mock-choking on a piece of fruitcake. 

Dudley looked down and was glad for the oversized cardigan that was hiding what was now a substantially painful erection.

Looking up at Peter, he caught him looking down.

Peter looked up from where his gaze had been trained, just below Dudley’s waist and locked eyes with Dudley, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

The rest of the sketch was a blur.

Dudley made the mistake of looking at the bulge distending Peter’s own trouser line and had to disguise an honest-to-god whimper as yet another cough.

They were big enough stars to have their own dressing rooms, but as soon as they left the stage it was a race to the closest, which happened to be Dudley’s.

Peter got there first, and as Dudley raced in, he grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around to pin him to the door, practically slamming him against it. 

Dudley let out a grunt as half of the wind was knocked out of him.

Peter leaned down to capture his lips and the rest of his breath was taken away.

Dudley felt a clumsy hand fiddling with his belt, and without breaking the kiss, he involved both hands in the exercise of divesting himself of his trousers.

They didn’t get very far before Peter gave up and ground the palm of his hand against Dudley.

Dudley’s hips thrust forward of their own accord to press into the hand that was firmly rubbing along his trouser seam.

This time it was Peter who whined and Dudley threw his head back against the door with a crack.

“Fuck, Peter.”

No witty retorts were forthcoming from the man who could outlive God in a bid to get in the last word.

Dudley made quick work of Peter’s own trousers, and no sooner had he got his hand wrapped around Peter’s cock, Peter let go of his.

Dudley whimpered at the loss, unable to articulate his frustrations. A moment later, he was being lifted and encouraged to wrap his legs around Peter.

He did and - oh bliss! This time Peter did slam him into the door, grinding hard against him and burying his face into Dudley’s neck. It was all Dudley could do not to cry out.

Peter’s hips rolled sinuously against his own.

Dudley latched onto Peter’s shoulder, biting through the shirt and into the muscle. Peter’s pace sped up and Dudley attempted to reciprocate in some fashion, managing minute thrusts while keeping Peter’s hips in a vice-like grip with his thighs.

Dudley was so close. Peter’s hand slammed into the door next to his head and Dudley felt him shudder, panting heavily into his neck. 

The feeling of Peter’s prick, pulsing next to his own, and the tortured inhalations next to his ear sent Dudley over the edge. His legs tightened impossibly around Peter as he thrust hard. Once. Twice. Dudley’s back arched as he came, heels digging into the back of Peter’s legs, thighs leaving bruises on his hips, arms wrapped tightly around Peter’s shoulders as he shivered through the after shocks.

Dudley went limp in Peter’s arms.

Peter lowered him gently. It had taken all he had to stay standing this long after his own release. Locking the door they were leaning against, he stepped out of his trousers and led Dudley over to the couch at the back of the room. 

Peter headed over to the basin and got a washcloth in a base attempt to clean them up. Dudley’s eyes were half lidded as he smiled up at Peter.

Peter couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss him again.

Dudley’s arms snaked up around his shoulders and pulled him down onto the couch. They rolled around until they found a comfortable position - Peter lying on his back and Dudley half on top of him, face down, with his head pillowed on Peter’s chest.

As Dudley’s breaths started evening out, Peter wound his arms tighter around his partner.

Finally. It had taken them long enough.


End file.
